


Xander Harris, Human Pet

by lunabee34 (Lorraine)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Crack, Disguise, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Master/Pet, Post-Canon, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24833020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorraine/pseuds/lunabee34
Summary: “We all know I’m going to end up playing the role of your human pet, so why not skip the pointless objections?”
Relationships: Xander Harris/Spike
Comments: 12
Kudos: 73





	Xander Harris, Human Pet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amejisuto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amejisuto/gifts).



> For Amejisuto who requested: Spike keeps Xander at some point in time. As a pet or whatever.

“You want me to what?” Xander knows the protest is half-hearted, but he can’t muster much shock and outrage at this juncture in his life. Last week he stripped naked in front of twenty-five gorgeous Slayers when he was doused with Graglok mucus, and he didn’t even feel a twinge of embarrassment. The universe seems to want to pull down Xander Harris’s pants, and he’s past fighting the cosmos to stay fully clothed at this point. Xander can tell Spike knows his protest is obligatory, too. Spike raises a speculative eyebrow at him before Giles jumps in.

“Spike needs a human pet to gain access to the Demon Emporium. I assure you that we all find the idea of a human pet utterly distasteful, Xander, but it will only be a masquerade. You will not be required to do anything beyond a little bowing and scraping before your presumed Master.”

“Don’t forget the revealing costume,” Spike says.

“Thank you, Spike,” Giles says. “That was extremely helpful.”

Xander shrugs. “Bowing and scraping in a revealing costume falls within my skill set.” He bets it can’t be any worse than the outfit he wore in Oxnard, and after all, he got bowing and scraping down pat during his stint as Renfield.

Giles instantly looks relieved. He must have thought Xander would refuse, and Xander supposes that once upon a time he would have. Any objections he might have made before seem ridiculous to him now, though. It’s too dangerous? He’s spent the past five years wandering the planet by himself hunting down baby Slayers. Dangerous has a whole new definition for Xander Harris. It’s demeaning? Whatever shred of dignity Xander ever had is moldering at the bottom of the crater that used to be Sunnydale. Xander decided almost immediately after he survived that apocalypse that if life is going to habitually make him its butt monkey, he might as well get a hand on the steering wheel and enjoy the ride a little. Maybe dressing up in a thong and some thigh high leather boots and pretending to be Spike’s love slave could be fun. That last is almost a road too far for Xander’s hard won zen, but even if pretending to be Spike’s human pet is as much a dumpster fire as it sounds like it probably will be, taking down the Demon Emporium will bring Xander a lot of satisfaction. Their low-level shenanigans are really eating into his _Westworld_ rewatch. 

Spike jerks his head toward the porch and says to Giles, “Give us a minute, alright?”

Xander follows Spike onto the porch. Half the yard is full of withered brown grass from a potions accident, and the other half is full of weapons that should have been put away before the dew started to fall. Somebody’s getting a demerit; Xander’s money is on Sally. That girl is more allergic to work than anyone he’s ever seen.

“What’s up?” Xander says. He’s pretty sure he knows what’s up.

Spike lights a cigarette and just looks at him through a cloud of smoke.

“We all know I’m going to end up playing the role of your human pet, so why not skip the pointless objections?”

“That’s very efficient of you, Harris.”

“You know me. I’m all about the efficiency.”

Spike laughs and not in the derisive way Xander had gotten used to in the basement days. He’s been doing that a lot lately—laughing with Xander instead of at him, and it’s kind of nice. “Come on, then. Let’s get you kitted out.”

A couple of hours later and far, far away from that house full of Slayers, Xander is dressed in a mesh crop top and the tightest black leather pants on the planet. Sitting down is out of the question. He examines himself critically in Spike’s full-length mirror; why Spike has a mirror at all, much less a full-length one, is a question Xander doesn’t want to contemplate.

“What’s the matter, Harris?” Spike says. “You look disappointed.”

Truth be told, Xander _is_ kind of disappointed. He’d geared himself up for partial nudity, and here he is almost fully clothed. “I guess I expected something a little more loinclothy.” 

“The mission’s not until this weekend. We can find you a skimpier outfit before then.”

“Ha, ha,” Xander says while seriously considering Spike’s suggestion. “Now what?”

“There’s not much else to it,” Spike says. “Just keep your eyes down, call me sir, and do whatever I tell you to.”

Xander feels a little thrill in the pit of his stomach at those words. Spike probably doesn’t intend to tell him to do anything other than “Come along” or “Open the door” or whatever, but he could tell Xander to do something much more scandalous. Something naughty. He could give any order, and Xander would have to obey. Them’s the rules for a human pet.

Spike’s eyes narrow, and then he smirks at Xander like he knows exactly what he’s thinking. Xander will never, ever admit this out loud, but that smirk should be illegal in all fifty states.

“Of course, we could find ourselves in a tricky situation. Might have to do a little improvising, put on a little show. You game for that, Harris?”

Xander says, “I’m game. I mean, we have to be convincing, right?”

“Right, pet.” When Spike says pet, it sounds like sex and smoke and whiskey and all kinds of trouble. Then he leans in, slowly enough that Xander could easily back away if he wanted to, and kisses him.

It turns really dirty really quickly, and before Xander even knows what’s happening, Spike is trying unsuccessfully to stuff his hand down Xander’s skintight pants, and Xander is pretty much humping Spike’s leg while moaning into his mouth.

“We are definitely getting you a new outfit,” Spike says.

Xander can’t help it; he starts giggling, and then they’re laughing together, and it feels really good, almost as good as Spike’s fingers still trailing across his belly. “Give me a hand with these,” he says. “I don’t think I can get them off by myself.”

Spike essentially peels him like a banana and pushes him back onto the bed. He’s still grinning, a real grin this time and not a smirk. It does something wonderful and complicated to Xander’s insides. Xander pushes up on his elbows, watches Spike shuck his duster and his jeans and his black t-shirt, and wonders what comes next. He’s glad they still have several days to practice. Xander really wants to get this right.


End file.
